Broken
by Alanna-Aki
Summary: She never asked for any of it. She didn't ask to be born, she didn't ask to be saved, and she most definitely did not ask to fall in love with a man who had eyes only for his dead fiancé. ChichiriOC. Well...maybe. ;D
1. Author's Note

I understand that Author's Notes are seriously frowned down upon on , and listed in the guidelines as not being allowed, but I feel it important to warn potential readers of the darkness this story shall contain. If you're looking for a happy story, I suggest you hit the back arrow immediately. The ending may or may not be a happy one, I haven't decided yet, but the beginning is going to reflect the darkness of the main character's life.

I realize that most people will not read an OC story about an abused teenage girl, but that is merely because they haven't found a good one yet. I hope for this to be a good read, but I am not writing this for writing's sake, or even to live out the fantasies of a deranged fan-girl. I write this to inform and to entertain. To inform the readers of the physical, psychological, and emotional issues faced by the byproducts of an abusive household. The character I shall use will not represent sexual abuse. However, she will show the signs of someone heading down the path which leads to subjecting one's self to sexual violence due to their longing for any type of affection they can get. She has never known love, or companionship, has never been hugged by a friend or relative, has never been given a compliment by such a person, has never even _had_ a friend, and thus, she has no idea what to expect from men.

I will repeat, only this one last time: this is _not_ a happy story.


	2. Prologue

_Hi, I'm Alanna, and I own nothing. How do you think that makes me _feel? _Huh? It's not a great feeling, I'll tell you that! I especially don't own any of the ideas published by Yuu Watase._

This will probably be the shortest chapter in the whole FanFic.

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The darkness was coming. There was no time to gather her belongings, or even to grab a coat. In fact, she scarcely had the time to lace up her combat boots before the footsteps could be heard outside her door. As her bedroom door was flung open, she ran to the window of her ground floor bedroom, jumping through it and running off into the night. The darkness had not prevailed. She had won. She was gone. For good.

It was a warm night, so the jacket-less teen was actually quite comfortable. Well, as comfortable as anyone could be under the given circumstances. Where would she go? She'd left before, but always the darkness found her. Always it drug her back to that dark, messy house, filled with old cigarettes and empty beer bottles and beat her senseless for "worrying" it and making it tell the police that, yet again, its daughter had run away. Why hadn't the police helped? Because it was good at hiding its darkness, at casting its shadows to the corners of room with a layer of light covering its deeds. The darkness was her father.

It was no secret that there were problems in that house. Several inquiries had been made, but always everything was swept under the rug before the inquisitors arrived. Her parents were cruel, but they were smart. They knew how things worked, and used that to their advantage. Why did they do it? Because they were weak. They wanted to feel powerful, so they crushed others under their heels in order to feel as though they were better than these people. In short, her parents crushed others because they, too, had been crushed, and they knew no other way.

There was no way that she was going back there. She would sooner die. No longer could she push herself through this horrible life. She truly believed the saying "Life sucks and then you die". Who wouldn't, after living a life such as hers?

The girl kept running. And running. And running. Eventually, she came to a bridge. She sat on the railing and looked down at the black water, feeling the darkness closing in on her although she knew that there was no possible way that could be true. There were no cars out here, miraculously. Still, she felt that something was very wrong. The feeling made her shiver. Gooseflesh covered her pale arms. Her tattoos seemed to stand out even more, reminding her of how pathetic she truly was. "Courage", they said in black Chinese symbols (one on each arm), something she'd never believed herself to possess.

Those were not her only tattoos. She had many. All were done illegally, of course, as she was a mere sixteen years of age, and couldn't have gotten parental consent even if she'd wanted to. She also had angel wings on her shoulder blades, black stars just below her collarbone above each breast, a black dragon above each ankle, and a black, tribal sun on her belly, the design surrounding her belly button and showing off her glittering gold belly bar, with a diamond on the end.

The girl had also received many piercings, those being done illegally, as well. Getting them done didn't even twinge compared to the pain and severity of the beatings she'd received over the course of her sixteen short years. In addition to her belly piercing, she also had a gold eyebrow ring in her right eyebrow (she kept most piercings hidden at home so it wouldn't become a fun new game, "rip out the shiny things"), a diamond stud in her left nostril, three lobe piercings in each ear, as well as a cartilage piercing in each ear.

Add those to her anarchy tank, darkwash skinny jeans, weathered leather combat boots, bold hair and makeup, and large amount of jewelry, and the girl was the definition of a rebellious teen. She drank, she went to wild parties, hell, she'd even done acid before, but there was one thing she wouldn't do. She wouldn't have sex. The girl would never even consider it. No. She wouldn't have children. Ever. If the girl had learned one thing from life, it was that children often grew up to be like their parents. She would never let that happen to her. She would never raise a child in such a horrid way. Never. Never, never. She wouldn't even dream of hurting a child like that. She pretended to be tough, but she couldn't even be in the same room as someone _yelling_ at their child. If she ever had a child, and she actually...hit...that child, she would kill herself. Literally. The girl was broken. Any little thing could send her over the edge.

Suddenly, the feeling intensified. Why did she feel so wary? So paranoid? Her anxieties just wouldn't leave her be. At that moment, she had an epiphany, and it all became clear to her. This bridge had been shown to be insufficiently stable, and was scheduled for demolition that…night… "Shit," the girl muttered, getting up to head toward the opposite side of the bridge, the side which would separate her from the darkness. As her left foot took its first step, a loud explosion came from underneath her, throwing her into the air. The pain was excruciating. The girl, eyes screwed up with pain, would never know it, but at that moment, a bright red glow enveloped her and she disappeared, never to be seen again.

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_Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me how to improve my writing!_


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